


Jumin Han's Isle of Cat

by kakakacuhaku (psycheros)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bromance to Romance, Cameo of other Characters - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seven/MC, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Translation, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycheros/pseuds/kakakacuhaku
Summary: Jumin lived alone in an island with two hundred cats. Jihyun visited him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> things to mention:
> 
> 1\. author is not a mystic messenger player  
> 2\. in accordance to point 1, the characters' personality is based heavily on the author's headcanon  
> 3\. the story focuses on jihyun and jumin. other characters are for supporting roles only  
> 4\. the translation's chapters will be shorter than the original because it's posted in parts, but the overall content would be the same.

Maybe it was fate.

Jihyun had left RFA. After Minteye and Saeran, Rika made him promised to forget everything.

“Let’s start anew,” she pleaded in tears, sad in her beauty as always. “You and I, we were given to each other so we’ll know the pain of love for the rest of our lives.”

Two suns collided would only burn.

She went to Alaska to fix her soul; he went to America to fix his sight. After his last surgery Jihyun found himself unable to go back to Seoul. Going back meant confronting his memories of her, facing the traces of their failure. So instead he changed his visa, worked as an assistant for a nature photographer, and started a new life in a small apartment in the outskirt of Wyoming.

RFA was no longer Rika Fundraising Association—they had given up hosting parties. Now they were just a bunch of acquaintances, having random talks while threading carefully around the “unmentionable topics”. The chat grew more forced and fake as days passed until he couldn’t take it anymore. It was too painful. He still had the app installed, the red notification indicating the numbers of conversation he missed, but he never wanted to open it again.

Life went on, Jihyun here and the other RFA members there and Rika was somewhere else, and sometimes it all felt like a dream until he stared at himself in the mirror and found the scar between his ribs staring back at him. It was as though someone had come and took a chunk of his flesh, leaving a round, ugly hole that reminded him all those nightmares he woke up from screaming came from something real.

But he held on.

His life was a second chance and he promised to himself and Rika he was going to find a new meaning of happiness.

One July night when it was too humid to keep his clothes on, Jihyun sat on the window chugging cold beer watching the distant highway traffic, their lights blinking at the edge of the town like sleepy resting stars. His room was dim, the only source of light was his computer’s monitor, showing a work-in-progress editing of his employer’s work. The job was due next week and he wasn’t in the mood to finish it so quickly.

Without anything else to do, Jihyun opened his phone’s apps. Playing a few rounds of game, got bored, close. Checking the emails, no new message, close. Scrolling the gallery, deleting some junk files, close.

Opening Mystic Messenger.

Ten months’ worth of chat bombarded him like a string of alarm. For a few minutes his phone didn’t stop pinging and vibrating as the data flooded in like water from an opened dam gate. He kind of regretted his action—it was so noisy, and it wasn’t that he wanted to talk to them or anything. After all the data was downloaded, he raised an eyebrow at the latest message.

**[May 5, 2017]**

**[09:30 AM]**

**[707]** Happy children’s day guys! May the child in us thrives!

No response.

Huh.

Seems like the other RFA members had finally moved on with their life too.

He scrolled up the conversation absent-mindedly. Luciel and his girlfriend, M.C., seemed to be the last ones to leave. On early April, Yoosung and Zen occasionally popped in to throw one or two comebacks. January was full of obligatory new year greetings and congratulations for Zen’s first movie which premiered on January 4th.

December—Christmas greetings. A small banter between Yoosung and Luciel, who claimed to be better at something-or-other online game than the young vet.

November, October—

**[October 14 2016]**

**[06:30 AM]**

**[Zen]**  Found this in my email. Is it true?? Jaehee?? Yoosung?? Anyone please confirm!

 **[Zen]**  [link]

**[10:45 AM]**

**[M.C.]**  Oh, dear!

 **[M.C.]**  I didn’t know anything. Have you called Jaehee?

**[10:46 AM]**

**[Zen]**  Can’t reach her. The network is busy.

**[11:30 AM]**

**[Yoosung]**  Guys! Have u seen the news is it tru

 **[Zen]**  What news

 **[M.C.]**  Oh dear, oh dear!

 **[M.C.]**  It’s the same, Zen. They just got it in the news! So it’s true after all, oh dear! How terrible!

**[11:31 AM]**

**[Yoosung]**  So u know about this? Got any info

 **[Yoosung] ***?

 **[Zen]**  We we hoping you’d know something.

 **[M.C.]**  We have no idea. Jaehee still can’t be contacted.

 **[Yoosung]**  Where 707?

 **[M.C.]**  He’s still sleeping, why?

 **[Yoosung]**  maybe he can contact V

 **[Yoosung]** maybe he knows something.

Jihyun raised an eyebrow. Why did they mention him? He reread the conversation and frowned, unable to find any hint. What the hell were they talking about?

He clicked on the link Zen posted.

It directed to a tacky infotainment site—the kind that relied its survival on exagerrated news and controversial gossip, both not necessaily accurate. The headline, written in a formal bold Times New Roman not unlike the more respectable newspage, said:

**C &R International’s Young Director in Coma After Suicide Attempt**

Jihyun didn’t know what he was expecting but certainly it wasn’t  _that_. For an absurd few seconds he stared at his phone blankly, the LED light glaring into his still-in-treatment eyes until they throbbed. Under that straightforward title was a picture he knew so dear, the cold, grey eyes looking at him as if challenging an opinion.

> ‘ _SEOUL: The multinational corporation C &R International’s executive director, Han Jumin (28) was found in critical condition after a suicide attempt in his house at Penthouse Premierre, Summerset Palace, on Thursday (14/10)._
> 
> _According to the police, they went to Han’s house at 03:45 after receiving a report from Park Mi-sun (48), the penthouse’s security. He said he got a “strange call” from Han which he suspected as a “suicidal will”._
> 
> _“Mr Han was drunk when he got home last night, around 11. I know him well, so I find it really strange—he never got drunk before,” Park informed the FivesixSEOUL. “Around three in the morning, Mr Han called from his room. He sounded odd. He asked me to go to his house “tomorrow morning”, and that “the necessary documents” were prepared on the table.”_
> 
> _The police found Han submerged in the bathtub with his wrists cut. “We managed to give him the first aid, but he was in critical condition,” said Police. They also stated they had sent Han to a nearby hospital. “We are still waiting for the hospital’s report for further investigation.”_
> 
> _Han Jumin is the heir of…._ ’

Jihyun couldn’t finish his read. His body trembled, suddenly it was so cold as though he was drowning with Jumin. His stomach churned, and with an abnormal speed he maneuvered to the bathroom. He almost had no time to open the closet lid before hurling out the beer and dinner.

Oh God….

After flushing the toilet, Jihyun staggered back into his room. His knees felt weak, his mouth sour, and his mind jumped in a turbulence. He fell on his bed like a sack of wheat, hand on his mouth, eyes wild as his brain still struggling to process the whole terrible thing.

God….

Jumin….

Nearly a year ago….

Still shivering, he reached for his phone on the floor. It took him three times before his fingers stopped slipping and he managed to dial the right number. It felt like forever before someone on the other side answered.

“Hello, Seven talking! Who’s there?” The almost too happy voice made him wanted to punch something.

“Luciel, you bastard,” Jihyun hissed between his gritted teeth, “what the hell happened to Jumin?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uuuhhh jihyun is kind of a douche in this chapter. please forgive him.  
> also we have yet to meet jumin but **_soon_**

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.

.

.

A blue-white speedboat speeding across the sea, ripping the water apart leaving white bubble trail like a stringray’s tail. The strong wind roared, competing with the constant rumble of the machine. The salty smell of the sea stuck everywhere—his hair, his skin, his clothes—he knew he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it even after three times of washing.

“We’ll arrive in fourty-five minutes, Sir,” Hee Chul, the chef of the boat, informed him as he leaned against the deck’s railing, watching the waves unfold. The bulky young man smiled at him. “Aren’t you cold here, Sir? It’s getting windy lately.”

Jihyun followed his gaze to the sky. It was in the middle of November, the autumn’s blue sky was starting to change into white, murky color, like a glass of milk mixed with a pint of ink. The tide was getting stronger, reaching up to the deck leaving puddles everywhere. Hee Chul told him that if the weather kept getting worse they probably wouldn’t be able to sail for a while.

“How many times do you have to cancel the trip in bad weathers like this?” Jihyun asked back.

Hee Chul shrugged. “Often enough. The whole boat’s design is light and airy to increase the speed, but it cost us well against the tide. Hit her with a slightly strong wave and….” He made a disturbing demonstration of a capsized boat. Jihyun grimaced.

“Then how do you send Jumin’s stuff?”

Before, Hee Chul and Uncle Jung the captain had a told him a lengthy story about their job. As the men of Jumin’s private boat, they were in charge for Jumin’s connection to the outside world. They took him to his weekly doctor appointment, sending his necessities, and escorting the very few guests allowed to visit him. “It doesn’t seem like much, but we have to be ready 24/7,” Unle Jung said, drinking his coffee. “We’re the young master’s guardians. If anything happens we are the ones who have to help him first.” He showed him a list of emergency numbers pinned to the bulletin board. Jihyun really hoped they never got the chance to call them.  

“Eh, when the weather’s unpredictable we send more stuff than usual—food for eight weeks straight, not including the emergency stuff.” Hee Chul counted with his plump fingers. “But when the weather’s good enough we immediately visit the island. We’re not just a “boat crew”, you know, we’re the young master’s keepers.” His chest bloated with pride, “We have to make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m grateful he has you guys to look after him,” Jihyun said sincerely. Good people, this Hee Chul and Uncle Jung. They were helpful and kind, but not intrusive. Exactly the kind of people someone like Jumin needed. “But wouldn’t it be safer for Jumin to stay in the mainland during the winter?”

Imagining him living alone in a remote island without immediate access to the outside world in the middle of winter made him anxious. If there’s anything he learned from being a nature photographer’s assistant, it was that nature could change from pleasant and serene to wild and unpredictable in a blink of an eye.

“Actually, Mr Han—young master’s father, I mean—had requested him to do just that, but he refused.” Hee Chul frowned as though he was silently against his employer’s decision. “Of course we’re all would feel so much safer that way, but the young master can’t leave his cats.”

“Ah.” Jihyun nodded. _Jumin’s cats_. Another strange aspect of this strange tale of Jumin Han. “He really can’t stay away from them, can he?”

Hee Chul laughed. “Yeah, he’s practically their _mother_ by now!”

The wind blew like it was trying to steal something from him. Jihyun put his hands in his jacket’s pockets and followed the chef into the cabin, taking his offer of a cup of warm tea and cookies. In front of them he was starting to make up a shape of an island, its jagged green surface an anomaly against the flat blue sea.

_Jumin Han’s Isle of Cats_ , the name popped into his mind like the title of a children’s book. Jihyun smiled sadly. For him, the lonely island looked like a blatant rejection.

.

.

.

.

Jumin tried to kill himself. The reality of it hit Jihyun like a mace, leaving him weak and vulnerable. The wave of guilt washed over him, drowning him in a sense of self-loathing.

_My best friend wanted to end his life and I didn’t even know._

“He’s alive.” Those two words sent a dose of relief to his muscles, unraveling them from its state of total tension. Jihyun’s shoulders sagged, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He still hadn’t trusted himself to say anything, so he let Luciel finished his story.

“I don’t know much. His father keeps the news from leaking—I understand his intention, sure—and even Jaehee doesn’t know shit about it. But he’s fine. We even paid him a visit once.”  

“Why did he do that?” Jihyun demanded, voice rising despite himself. _How could he do that to me?!_

“That’s not the kind of question I could ask him, don’t you think?” Luciel answered, suddenly cold and distant. “After all, he’s not the kind of person to trust some random people, and I and the others are just his _nobody_.”

The word stung him harder that he thought it would. Jihyun fell silent, staring blankly at the blue carpet of his room. It looked shabby and dull in the dark.

“Why—” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “—why didn’t you tell me?”

_Me, Jumin’s closest friend and confidant. I’m not a nobody, I should have known the most!_

Luciel’s laugh was harsh and cold. His heart plummeted. “Did you _really_ think we did it on purpose?”

“What do you mean?”

A pause. Jihyun waited, feet jittered anxiously. And then,

“Check your email,” Luciel spat, “Call me back once you know your own _blunder_.”

Then he hung up.

Jihyun sat there in silence. The clock ticked as if it was counting the emptiness in his head, the computer hummed filling the humid air. Outside the apartment a car swished past, its hushed tire and short, loud honk shaking the night.

His heart thumped in his chest as the opened the mail app. No new messages. He went to the filter folder. A short list of mail appeared, sent by names like M.C., 707, and Yoosung8. His stomach tightened as he read the subjects from October to November 2016.

** 19/11/16 M.C. – Update on Jumin (3) **

** 28/10/16 M.C. – Update on Jumin (2) **

** 18/10/16 M.C. –  Update on Jumin (1) **

** 17/10/16 707 – Flight Ticket—get our ass back here NOW! **

** 14/10/16 M.C. – Something bad happened. Please contact us. **

** 14/10/16 Yoosung8 – [URGENT] SOMETHING ABOUT JUMIN PLEASE RESPOND **

He couldn’t read any of them. Tears streamed down his face, his nose felt hot and stuffy. Shame, a great amount of it, constricted him like phyton—he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he trashed.

_I am the one who shut them away._

_I am the one who shut Jumin away._

His broken heart got its last blow when he scrolled down the screen. There, at the end of the table, was a message which made him almost threw his phone away in terror.

** 13/10/16 hjumin – (no subject) **

As if against his will, his thumb clicked on the message. It opened to a short, formal-sounding letter. Jihyun’s throat tightened as he read it.

_Dear Jihyun,_

_Attached is the certified copy of stock certificates under the name of Han Jumin, along with the signed statement letter for cross trade. Please contact my broker (contact listed) for the authentic documents. I have arranged so that the crossing can be processed internationally (you don’t need to go back to Seoul if you don’t want to). If the necessary documents aren’t processed within three months, the dividend will be transferred automatically to the non-profit organizations and social agencies until further management of the crossing process._

_I hope you forgive me. I’m sorry I do this to you. Thank you for all the years we’ve spent together, you’re always the best friend of my life. Please be happy for me._

_Sincerely,_

_Jumin._

For the second time that night, Jihyun ran to the toilet and hurled out the content of his stomach.

.

.

.

.

Jihyun never planned on going back to Seoul, but even if he did, he never thought it would be under _this_ kind of circumstance.

The first thing he did after arriving at Seoul International Airport was to contact the “old friends” from RFA (excluding Jumin—all means of his contact had been “out of service”). He felt low for dubbing himself as a “friend” after neglecting them for months, but the other members seemed amiable enough. Or at least, they were friendly in the telephone, although none of them was willing to meet up with him (“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m very busy right now.” “Thank you for the offer, but I just can’t”). He didn’t want to blame them but it kind of made him felt chased out nonetheless.

Only Luciel, with great reluctance, willing to open the door for him. He didn’t even try to hid his sour face as Jihyun walked into his shared apartment, and as if it wasn’t enough, M.C., who Jihyun had hoped would ease some of the tension, was away in a trip to Jeju island with her family. The atmosphere was so tense in the room he swore he could play an acoustic song by picking at the air.

“So. Why do you bother coming back?”

The question caught him off-guard. He fidgeted in his seat, refused to make an eye contact with the redhead in front of him. Behind his happy-go-lucky façade Luciel had the same dark side as his twin brother, the twin brother who happened to be the source of Jihyun’s nightmares. It wasn’t a relaxing fact.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “I just feel I have to come back. My heart tells me this is the right thing to do.”

“Yea, from our past experience, I don’t think I trust your heart’s voice so much,” Luciel deadpanned. Jihyun didn’t answer.

Minutes passed in silence while both of them drowning in their own thoughts—Jihyun with his unfair, unexplainable mix of anger and sadness; Luciel with his quiet annoyance that he had to be the host to _this particular person_. The television mumbled in the background, airing a traveling program with a pleasant-faced actress laughing merrily about some new tourist attraction or the other. Luciel couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Are you angry at me?”

Jihyun sounded dejected. Luciel saw sadness in his eyes and all of sudden his heart softened. Well. Aside from his mistake, Jihyun was a good guy. Maybe the best one among them. He was just prone to make ridiculously stupid moves.

“Honestly? Not at all,” he admitted. Jihyun stared at him perplexedly, his eyes widened like that of a hopeful puppy. Luciel smiled. Geez, how could he stay angry at that kind of face? “After all you’ve been through, we respect your decision. Why do you think we never try to keep you in RFA?” He shrugged. “We know you and Rika wants to start a new life—um, okay that sounds wrong but you get what I mean—and we understand that. We want you to be happy too.”

“Thank you,” Jihyun whispered, smiling a watery smile and blinking back tears.

“If only everything goes fine, I wouldn’t have had any trouble with you. In fact, you can go for _ten years_ without talking to me and I’d still regard you as a good friend.” He sighed, looking out to the window. “But then Jumin happened.”

Jihyun swallowed hard. _But then Jumin happened_. The sentence throttled him again, as fierce and brutal as before. He wondered if it ever lost its power.  

“Are you… disappointed in me?”

Luciel let out something that sounded like a bark and a sob. “I don’t even know what to call it anymore. I’m disappointed, angry, bitter… it’s just like those people say—‘if I I have two bullets and being locked together with you, Stalin, and Hitler; I would shoot you twice.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. Jihyun nodded.

“I know. I would do the same. Shooting myself, I mean.”

“Did Jumin contacted you before—you know?”

He considered whether Luciel deserved to know about Jumin’s last mail, but then he decided there would be no difference whatsoever anyway. “Yes, he sent me some kind of will—stock letters and all that.”

 “Hm.”

“What is it?” Jihyun asked, alarmed, “Is there something I don’t know?”

_Lots_ , his inner self sneered. Luciel shrugged.

“Ah, well. It’s not really important.” He rubbed his nose, suddenly looking awkward. “It’s just… hm. You know, Jumin was looking for you that day.”

Jihyun’s heart plummeted. “What day?”

“The day we visited him in the hospital,” Luciel sounded a bit sheepish, like he was feeling a secondhand embarrassment. “He was in coma for ten days. Only miracle could save him, if you ask me.” Seeing Jihyun’s expression he quickly added, “Now, but he made it out anyway. We were all grateful. When we visited him he was still dopey from the meds so he just rambled. Didn’t even know who we are most of the time. And he kept asking why you didn’t come.”

 “Oh.” Jihyun felt like crying. “Dan what did you say?”

“Well, what can I say?” Luciel asked back, “I told him you’ll come, but not today.”

Jihyun nodded. He did come, nine months later.

“Hey, Luciel,” he mumbled, “where can I find Jumin?”

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End file.
